There are massive bursts of light and dark work,
From lifeless hands, their making of heaven is done.
You really must be nuisance and idiocy to react
To the bursting in of rays, the crumbling of might.
Astronomic sentences forsake the pain and work,
Then the stars are fully mooned, and really planets
Orbit for the middle of the night, in the medium of the dark.
It is growing dark now, fully forming like stars,
These nights terribly saved me after a heart has been struck.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem